


We Tried The World (It Wasn't Meant For Us)

by ohmaggies (orphan_account)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, F/M, M/M, because who doesn't want a story about our favourite deliquents living in the apocalypse?, but i like it, edit: yay for new characters finally, i am a failure, i only ever write for twd fandom so this is new to me, my first the 100 fic ever, so sorry if this is bad or ooc, tries to tag the relationships appropriately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4025494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ohmaggies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hang in there, yeah?” she soothed, lips meeting the warm skin of Clarke’s cheek. There was sweat dripping down the blonde’s forehead and her hair was clinging to her but Raven didn’t care, she just wanted her girlfriend to wake up, no matter what it took and even if it took weeks or days, she would wait. Monty would do it for Jasper, and Bellamy would for Octavia, and Clarke would for all of them. “You’ll be fine—I promise.”</p><p>the 'walking dead' au that absolutely no one asked for or wanted</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Still Alive (Most Days)

In Clarke’s defence, living in the apocalypse wasn’t really how she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life. She was _meant_ to finish training at the hospital, she was _meant_ to fall in love, and move to the city, and finish the art portfolio that was going to get her that scholarship at the art school in Chicago. Clarke-Badass-Is-My-Middle-Name-Griffin was _not_ meant to be sitting against a cold concrete wall with a gun shaking in her hand and wild blonde hair sheltering her exposed face against the winter chill while the gory wound in her thigh stained her jeans with blood.

“End of the world,” she laughed, eyes shuttering shut as a crooked smile curled the corners of her mouth. “And Clarke Griffin wastes away against a dirty grey wall because of a fucking cut in her thigh. Figures, huh?”

Thank God for Jasper-Fucking-Jordan, who only a few hours ago had thrown himself into a walker’s path, sparing Clarke’s life and even as she watched him struggle against something far too hungry to match his strength, tears blinking in her vision and Monty’s voice in her head- _‘Hey, Clarke. Bring Jasper back?_ ’ -all she could do was run, say a silent prayer to some God she no longer believed in, and hoped she never had to face Monty Green again in her life.

Clarke wasn’t sure if she could ever look him in the eye again and say, _‘Hey! I’m back but Jasper’s not because he’s dead. Sorry about that. Also, sorry about promising to bring your best friend back to you alive. My mistake. We all make them, right?’_

Yeah, that was definitely, 100% never, ever, ever going to happen, even if it meant she never got to see Raven Reyes, bless her heart, again. Even though she loved her, it was Clarke’s fault that the loveable boy in goggles was dead and Monty was an angel who could do nothing wrong; he didn’t deserve it.

So, yes, Clarke was going to lie there and die of blood loss or possibly be bitten by whatever walker stumbled her way and killed her because, you only live twice, right? Besides, maybe Jasper wasn’t dead, she hadn’t seen him die after all, but those words would not be enough.

She saw the way Monty looked at Jasper to know better than the ‘ _He’s like my brother’_ speech the younger boy gave so often, reminding Clarke almost every waking moment that Jasper Jordan was his freaking world and if she didn’t bring him back, then she was probably the worst person to ever exist.

Her mistake, right?

It was only when Clarke managed to peer through half-shut eyes that she was saw a face riddled with freckles and dark eyes glaring at her. The blonde opened her mouth to breathe a sigh of relief or even say ‘ _Bellamy Blake, am I glad to see you’_ but before she knew it, her eyelids were fluttering shut against will and white-hot pain was burning in her legs and she was seemingly dead to the world.

Could be worse but even as Bellamy-Goddamn-Life-Saver-Blake hissed at her injury, wondering what kind of Hell the princess had gotten herself into as he scooped her up, unceremonious marriage carry and all- hand under her knee and the other supporting her neck, the older man could only shake his head, a hearty sigh escaping his lips.

There were walkers outside the door he’d come through, and he’d only managed to wedge it shut with a piece of wood that was settled on the ground, before stumbling across something that he could only weakly describe as a trail of blood that he’d, fingers crossed, prayed wasn’t going to end with a dead body at the end.

And there lie Clarke Griffin, hands by her side and her head tilted to the right, blood crusting her jeans and blonde hair knotted, and the eldest Blake had only let himself breathe again when he found her pulse, because the world was a much dimmer place without her in it.

Bellamy stumbled through the doorway, catching Raven Reyes’ eye who jumped up, springing into action while Murphy nudged Monty, the youngest boy pausing without glancing up, unable to speak before the boy beside him leant in, John whispering something to comfort him, and Murphy parted, patting his shoulder and making his way over to Bellamy who settled Clarke on the mould-ridden couch in the middle of the room, groaning as he did so.

“—What happened?” a voice asked and Blake wasn’t even sure who it belonged to but all he knew was that Octavia wasn’t in the greeting party and he searched the room wildly, spinning around in a frenzied circle, eyes on each corner of the room and still, the teenager didn’t show herself.

“Where’s my sister?” he choked, eyes narrowing over at Raven, the mechanic raising her hands in defence.

“Hey, calm down, she’ll be back soon, ‘kay?” the woman replied, red jacket looking even larger on her thinning frame. How long had it been since they’d last had something good to eat? If it wasn’t for Monty, who had some knowledge of traps, they would’ve been starved out of their home a long time ago.

“Jasper?”

The voice took them all by surprise, each turning to look at the small teenager glaring at them, mouth agape and eyes widened in an emotion neither could describe. Delicate tears had sprung to his eyes, blurring his vision, and nose twitching. “Where’s Jasper?”

“He—“ Bellamy started but before he could finish, the door flung open, Octavia, her braids flinging down her back and a few over her shoulder, and the biggest surprise of all, a limp teenager with goggles being dragged as she walked.

“Going to help me or what?” she barked, voice strained as she spoke, managing to stumble through the doorway just enough that she didn’t fall over outside but instead tripped, flying down onto the floor while an unconscious Jasper Jordan groaned incoherent words in his sleep or whatever it was, and everyone sprung into practiced action.

Raven rushed to help Monty lift up Jasper, each with a hand under his pit to support him, and groans as they heaved him up to sit against the wall. The teenager was unbelievably heavy, to their surprise, but the happiness and joy they felt seeing him well surpassed that.

Monty started checking his best friend for scratches or bites and muttering sentences that didn’t even seem to mean anything until Jasper flickered clear and bright, thank the Lord, eyes open to rest on the younger boy in-front of him and delicate hands were cupping each side of his face and gentle lips were meeting his and it wasn’t sloppy or gross but normal and nice and Raven’s heart almost melted at the sight.

She placed a hand over Monty’s shoulder, the boy jumping at the touch and it was only then that he parted the kiss, forehead moving to rest against his best friend’s.

“You didn’t come back,” he whispered, hands still warm against Jasper’s skin. “And I didn’t know if you were—I was so scared, Jas. I thought... You were dead.”

“I know,” the other teen managed to say weakly. “I thought I was too.”

They both laughed but it was strained and painful to hear and Raven only managed to tear her gaze away from the two to make her way back over to Clarke, hand moving to press against her forehead while Bellamy tended to his sister.

Clarke was the doctor, the healer, the only one who semi-knew what she was doing; they couldn’t lose her. If not for the need for someone who could heal but because Raven loved her, and Bellamy, and Murphy, and Monty, and Jasper, and Octavia, and everyone. Because that’s who Clarke was and they all loved her.

“Hang in there, yeah?” she soothed, lips meeting the warm skin of Clarke’s cheek. There was sweat dripping down the blonde’s forehead and her hair was clinging to her but Raven didn’t care, she just wanted her girlfriend to wake up, no matter what it took and even if it took weeks or days, she would wait. Monty would do it for Jasper, and Bellamy would for Octavia, and Clarke would for all of them. “You’ll be fine—I promise.”

“Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” a voice sneered, the brunette’s head whipping about to cast Murphy a glare.

“If I had wanted your opinion, John, I would’ve asked for it,” she spat, gaze moving back down to the injured teen on the couch. Raven’s knees tingled against the carpet and she was sure if she didn’t move about soon, she was going to lose all feeling in them.

Pulling herself to stand, she looked around for the Blakes. “Yo, Bellamy!” she hollered. “She doesn’t look too good.”

It was true. Clarke’s skin was pale and tinged with green and her leg was still bleeding even if at a steady rate, sweat still pooled under her arms and her hair was slicked through with it. They had no way of fixing up; there was no hospitals, no doctors.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do?” Octavia hissed, arms folded across her chest. “She looks like Hell. We can’t fix this.”

As if as a second thought, she stood up straight, arms falling to her side. “Lincoln,” she said. “Lincoln could fix this, he’s a healer, and he knows what he’s doing, Bell.”

“No way,” Bellamy growled.

“It’s the only shot we’ve got,” Raven pleaded, hoping what she said would mean something. “Clarke is going to die, Bellamy, and we can do something about it.”

“Fine,” the eldest Blake agreed, a hint of rage traced on his lips as he spoke. “But Octavia doesn’t go; only me and Raven. We’re the fastest and too many of us are tired or injured. If we’re not back by sundown—keep a close eye on Clarke.”

Anyone turned, even without a bite, and if the blood loss was too much or she slipped away in her sleep, they would have a walker in their home, wandering about with a gash in her thigh and sharp nails digging into skin. They couldn’t risk it, even with family.

“Monty, Jasper,” Raven called, just before she reached the door, eyes leaving Bellamy in-front of her to glance back at the boys. “Try and do something about those traps, ‘kay?”

“Murphy, make sure my sister doesn’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

John just shrugged and despite not completely trusting him, it meant something to them that he was still there. He could’ve cut out a long time ago, stolen their supplies and left them for dead, but he stayed, that made him loyal. And he could fight, probably better than most, and even though sometimes he pretended not to care, Bellamy knew he’d watch over Octavia, because Bellamy loved her and Murphy loved him.

He didn’t have to say it for everyone to know; they just did. Like they all knew Monty and Jasper were in-love, even if they didn’t say it; they could all see it. Same with Raven and Clarke, though that was a more embarrassing story involving chocolate and an alcohol store and lots and lots of crying.

Raven knew she loved Clarke when Finn died, pushed Clarke in-front of him and succumbed to the horrors of the new world. Raven knew that her girlfriend still cried out in her sleep though her stubbornness meant she would never admit it.

Bellamy was already turning out the door, the gun tucked into the back waistband of his jeans leaving a lump where she could see the outline of the weapon. Raven only grinned at it, and found her place behind him, feet resounding on the concrete floor in the hall, apartment doors passing them. Surely a three-story building in the middle of the city wasn’t exactly the best shelter for the teenagers to take but as Clarke had put it, they’d all grown up in The Ark and as apartments go, it was a pretty good one. Only a few doors and large rooms, as well as a full-stocked kitchen, their home was probably one of the safest places on Earth.

“How far away is it?” Raven inquired, slowly following behind the eldest Blake as he pushed open the door, peering out onto the street. While the dead usually occupied the roads, there seemed to be none in sight; or some miracle had occurred and God was on their side.

_Hey, maybe even the Lord had a soft spot for pretty blondes like Clarke Griffin._

Bellamy just turned back, freckles littering across his sun-tanned skin and dark curls weighing down upon his face. “Ask the questions when we get there, alright?” he hissed, hand pausing to reach for his gun but better judgement ruling against it. One shot and they’d have any walkers in the area straight down on them; besides, they could do without the extra trouble.

They were running on empty with barely any food in their stomachs and the air in the apartment building was thick and stuffy from too many days spent inside. If Raven knew better, she would say it was like it was running out, but she knew better, so she didn’t say anything.

“Lincoln,” the mechanic said. “He can help us, right?” she continued, pushing dark hair behind her ear as she trailed after Bellamy into the street, making sure her voice was barely above a whisper and eyes darting to check each corner. “They could never be too careful. I know you said no more questions but hear me out, okay?”

“Octavia said he can,” came the only reply.

Red jacket hugged over her small frame, the teenager made sure she stayed close, hand gripping her weapon and footfalls light.

She expected the older boy to turn around to quieten her when a yelp escaped her throat, eyes shooting over to the herd stumbling down the street. Luckily, they hadn’t detected them yet but it wouldn’t be long before they did and how much time they had left before their presence was noticed, well, it was questionable.

Bellamy caught her gaze, following where she was watching the dead stumble around the corner and placed his hand on her back, reaching out to push her ahead of him and guide her into a building. Lincoln was still a few streets away and how long it would take them to get there, they had no idea. Clarke needed help immediately and if she didn’t get that, who know how long it would be before someone in that apartment was thrusting a blade through her skull.

Neither spoke, just barricaded the door as quietly as they could to not draw attention and sat against it, both shaking. It was cold in the building and at second glance, Raven noticed exactly what kind of shop it was.

“Hey,” she said, moving her elbow to dig it softly into her companion’s ribs. “You ever had beer before, Bellamy?”

His eyes widened as he looked ahead, the aisles stocked high with bottles of alcohol and packets of nuts hooked on each end. It was a surprise they hadn’t come across it before, even when they were out scavenging in the streets.

“Don’t tell O we found this,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“This could help though, right?” Raven asked, looking over at him. “It’s like nature’s painkiller, atleast, it’s what Clarke usually uses when someone gets hurt. We ran out a while ago, I’m pretty sure Murphy was drinking it.”

“Does anything John do really surprise you, Reyes?” Bellamy questioned, an eyebrow raised before he pushed himself off the ground, the mechanic soon following suit.

Stumbling after him, she stopped to examine the racks of beverages, eyes widened as she looked around, spinning in a circle to take in the whole sight before them. “Honestly?” she scoffed, stopping to place her hands on her hips. “The only thing that surprises me nowadays is that he’s still pining over you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back, wanted to thrust her hands into the air to grab them and make sure they were never said but she couldn’t, no matter how hard she prayed in the few seconds before Bellamy’s mouth fell open.

“Pardon?” his arms were folded over his chest, only bringing more attention to his muscles which Raven scolded herself for glancing at; she was taken, not blind.

“I’m just saying, Bell, the kid likes you. Missed opportunity,” she replied, feigning interest in a clear bottle of something pink, picking it off the shelf and pretending to read the label. “I mean, if you ask me, you should talk to him when we get back. See if there’s something there.”

She put the bottle back, moving further away to tear something else off the racks, popping off the top and pressing it against her lips. It burned and she pulled the alcohol away, throwing herself into a coughing fit. _Okay, that was a bad idea,_ she told herself, screwing back on the lid and striding over to her backpack, finding place for it amongst her other belongings.

“I’m not gay, Raven,” he replied, voice firm and lips pressed tight.

Even she knew better than to believe him, humming under her breath and turning back to him, the teenager dusting her hands off on her jeans. “Okay,” Raven said, a smile tugging up each corner of her mouth. “But he likes you. It’s sad-- And, Bellamy? It’s okay if you like Clarke, too, I do.”

The little voice in her head screamed: _Yeah, but she’s_ your _girlfriend_.

“You think I like Clarke?” he was still glaring at her, head lowered to meet her eyes but she looked away sheepishly, shrugging.

“I know you do,” the mechanic muttered, kicking pathetically at the concrete ground beneath her feet. Just when she thought the conversation couldn’t get any more awkward:

 “She doesn’t like me.”

_Unrequited love, you utter bitch._

And soon enough, Raven Reyes was eleven years old again and chasing Finn Collins around The Ark and he’s slipping her food before bed because her mother couldn’t, no, _wouldn’t_ , feed her, and then she’s thirteen and they kiss for the first time and if she focuses really hard at glaring at the black insides of her eyelids, she swears she can see fireworks, and before she knows it, she’s seventeen and a blonde girl named Clarke has her boyfriend pressed against herself and Monty and Jasper are introducing her to Octavia and saying they found her passed out and her whole world is falling apart and nothing feels like it will ever be okay again.

“She does, just not in the way you want,” she told him and she could see confusion cross his face and she knew that somewhere deep inside, Bellamy Blake was jealous of her for being able to call Clarke Griffin her own.

“—“

He was at a loss of words, which was understandable and all Raven Reyes could do was sigh, fold her arms over her chest and shake her head, ponytail swishing about behind her. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” Bellamy barked, occupying himself by heaving supplies off their shelves, forcing them into his bag. Whether he was angry or something else- maybe even embarrassed- Raven couldn’t tell and she wasn’t about to stick around long enough to find out.

“We should get going, head out the back,” she suggested, though it was more of an order. “Those walkers will figure it out eventually and I don’t want to be here when they do, ‘kay? Besides, the more attention we can draw to this place, the harder it will be to sneak out and to Lincoln.”

The mechanic was smart, had survived long enough by herself in the apocalypse before Monty and Jasper found her behind The Ark, passed out on the floor and blood pouring from a wound in her head. They’d been checking the traps out in the forestry and shrubs that resided behind the apartment block, and when Raven finally came to, she was on a moth-eaten couch and Clarke Griffin- the woman she owed her life to- was wrapped in Finn’s embrace, lips touching ever so slightly.

Reyes wasn’t even entirely sure if she’d ever been so angry in her life than she had been in that moment. She saw red and all she wanted to do was go over and throw fists and curse them both out.

It wasn’t long after that The Ark was breached and walkers were pouring in through the door.

They were all caught by surprise, springing into action to eliminate the threat and a few hours after, Raven stumbled into the hall, Clarke’s hands coated with blood and Finn’s head in her lap. He wouldn’t make it through the night, barely make it to noon.

_She still missed him something fierce._

“That’s your plan?” he asked, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face that made her want to reach out and hit it off him.

“You got a better one?” she scoffed, backpack pulled onto her shoulders, straps digging in with their newfound heaviness. Maybe taking that much alcohol in one trip _wasn’t_ her best idea but she wasn’t about to admit that to Bellamy. “Because I don’t see us having much of a choice right now.”

Hands thrown in the air, she figured she must have looked ridiculous when she was saw Lincoln peering in through the back window, eyebrow raised and sword held down by his side. They weren’t a threat, he knew that, but he was still being careful, she understood that; respected it even.

Sheepishly, she lowered her hands, instead leaving Bellamy standing there so she could unlock the back door of the beer, wines and spirits store, moving aside to allow their new companion inside.

“We need your help,” she told him, waving him inside. “There’s something wrong with Clarke-“

“Octavia?”

“She’s fine, Linc, ‘kay? But—“

“Clarke is sick,” Bellamy interrupted, clearing his throat to bring their attention. “And my little sister said you could help her. Can you?”

The man looked oblivious for a minute before he nodded, though his shoulders still heaved with a shrug. “Was she bitten?”

They weren’t stupid enough to try and bring anyone back from a walker-inflicted injury, there was simply no way. When Wells had been bit, they’d tried to cut his arm off, to stop the infection, but he’d bled out before they could stop it.

Clarke was gone and they were lost; tried to cauterize the wound. He had been in so much pain and soon enough, Murphy was putting a blade in the boy’s skull just to make him quiet, to end the suffering. They had all wandered about like walkers themselves for weeks, dreading when Clarke would walk through the door and they’d have to explain.

Most nights when she returned, the blonde would cry herself to sleep, but it was silent tears and only Raven, who had just met her, would hear them and comfort her.

Nights and nights on end with chokes and sobs and reddened eyes, and soon enough, the only way to make her be quiet was to push her lips against hers and just drink her in, just see the way in the pitch black their small lamps lit constellations in her eyes that could very much match the ones in the sky.

And that’s when Raven knew she was in-love, even though at first she tried to deny it, told herself that no way was she falling for her ex-boyfriend’s mistress, but that’s how it happened.

“No, we don’t know,” she stuttered. “She wasn’t bitten but she’s got the flu. And she has a gash on her thigh; we only just managed to stop the bleeding.”

“Octavia sent you?”

She nodded desperately in reply, a sob caught in her throat. If they couldn’t convince Lincoln to help, she might as well have started saying her goodbyes to Clarke. “Yes—We can’t save Clarke any other way, we need you.”

“Take me there,” he said, locking eyes with Bellamy, who sat quietly in the corner.

He hadn’t made any kind of attempt to help convince Lincoln to save Clarke apart from mentioning his sister to her boyfriend, but other than that, Raven seemed to be on her own.

Without warning, a loud crash sounded from behind and the teenager was dropping to the ground, backpack straps still digging in between her shoulder blades. It seemed to be nothing, she noted as Bellamy looped a hand under her pit, lifting her, but a walker bumping into a car at the front of the store, setting of its car alarm.

She thought it impossible that the car battery still worked but more impossible had happened.

* * *

Octavia buried her face in her boyfriend’s neck, his arms wrapped around her middle to hold the girl against him. How long had it been since they’d last held each other? _Just_ held each other, nothing else.

“You can save her?” she whispered, breath warm against his ear.

He shrugged. “I can try.”

Clarke was sprawled out on the couch, sweat pooled upon her forehead and hair sticking her to face and neck as she lied there, unconscious. Lincoln’s hand moved to feel her temperature, then to her pulse, and after, he shook his head.

Raven felt her heart drop into her stomach, the anxiety she had felt at knowing that her girlfriend was okay was gone, she was just scared. “What do you mean?”

“It might be too late.”

A hand settled on her shoulder, her head spinning to catch Monty’s soothing smile, Jasper sleeping somewhere in the corner. “Raven—“

“Monty, don’t,” she muttered. “Don’t, okay?”

She slept that night by Clarke’s side, ignoring Bellamy’s protests and warnings- [ _“If she turns, Reyes....”_ “If she turns, Blake, I can handle it.”] -and rested her head on the crook of her elbow, snoring lightly. When she woke, reddened eyes and a running nose, she moved forward, sleepily and tired, to kiss her girlfriend’s forehead.

“Morning, sunshine,” said a familiar voice, a groan of pain sounding out.

Raven fell into the other teenager’s embrace, grateful that Clarke was awake; she was alive! Giddy with happiness and excitement, she pushed herself up, pressing her lips against her girlfriend’s, knees still digging into the ground while the blonde moved to grasp her hair.

“Lincoln said—“

“The princess only awakens with a kiss,” she grinned, though it was a joke, and said lightly.

Raven kissed her and kissed her until finally Octavia awoke and something about ‘ _It’s our lucky day, bitches!_ ’ before she was by Clarke’s side too, offering a smile that seemed to only light up her face for a short moment before she was turning away, shaking everyone awake to form a greeting party.

Jasper shook awake, arm draped over Monty’s shoulder, the younger boy pressed against him, and he shook his boyfriend awake, both of them moving slowly to say hello to Clarke.

Even John, who wasn’t exactly one of the healer’s favourite people, uttered a half-hearted hello, soon joined by Bellamy, who took to the teenager’s side, standing much too close to Murphy for either to be unaffected by the touch.

Hey, maybe the eldest Blake would even listen to Raven-Good-Advice-Reyes and finally see if there was something between them. Even if he liked to say he wasn’t gay, how long had they put up with that same thing from Monty?

And there he was, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest not far, looking up at Jasper Jordan like he was the freaking sun, and for once, even in the apocalypse, they were finally happy.


	2. I Would Love You A Thousand Times Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Clarke was a fun drunk. They found out a few hours before when Raven pulled the alcohol from her backpack and her girlfriend immediately took to it, crying and screaming and telling hideous jokes and stories from before. The only story she didn't tell was the story of how she fell in-love with Raven.'
> 
> or monty and jasper are total dorks in love and raven thinks about clarke and bellamy is a loser who has never been kissed... until now.

Lincoln decided to stay with them after Clarke woke up, mostly because Octavia asked and not because he wanted to but nonetheless, they were just thankful to have him there with him. He wasn’t the best healer and Raven’s girlfriend was probably better but he knew natural remedies- how to live off the land- and they needed him.

Bellamy, however, wasn’t entirely pleased with the outcome. Seeing his baby sister curled up in the man’s embrace each night and at his side at morning made his stomach coil. She was far too young, too innocent, and the first time they’d met, the eldest Blake had a blade against Lincoln’s adam-apple.

He’d believed for days that the man had kept his sister captive against her will but after hours and hours of hearing Lincoln’s silent pleas of pain, she’d had enough.

Octavia had helped him escape from the neighbouring room early in the morning, escorted him to the door and let him out, and after hours of her protective older brother scouring The Ark for their prisoner, she finally admitted to helping him escape.

It had been her final act of rebellion before she finally settled into her place, starting acting differently, and they all started seeing her in a different light, one that she seemed to like.

If it hadn’t have been for her, Lincoln never would’ve been captured in the first place. But then again, if it wasn’t for him, she would’ve been eaten alive by walkers in the street. He had been in the right place at the right time; swooping in to help her escape as she fought her way out, tooth and claw, sheltered away in confusion for weeks inside his house.

And then Bellamy had found her, and Jasper, and Finn, and Harper. Watching them destroy all that her future boyfriend has worked to create and she had to clench her teeth in anger to keep from lashing out, hand finding her brother’s cheek when he left Lincoln bleeding out on the floor. They almost had to drag her kicking and screaming to get her back to The Ark. Clarke treated her soon after, said that they should thankful that the man had known what he had doing; he’d saved her life.

When Raven saw the weapon buried in Finn’s chest, the colour had drained from her face and she was cursing Octavia’s saviour in a language none of the other survivors knew.

They managed to save his life, no thanks to Bellamy’s cruel tactics and Clarke’s vicious screaming, but to Lincoln’s love for Octavia, something she couldn’t understand and after sharing a kiss, her first since her brother’s deceased friend Atom, she undid his restraints, somehow managed to sneak him out the front door.

The first thing Monty did when Lincoln finally moved in with them was take to his side, asking him all sorts of strange questions about the outside while Jasper rolled his eyes, hand clenched in Monty’s as the younger boy dragged him along.

_Ah, happy days._

Clarke was a fun drunk.

They found out a few hours before when Raven pulled the alcohol from her backpack and her girlfriend immediately took to it, crying and screaming and telling hideous jokes and stories from before. 

The only story she didn't tell was the story of how she fell in-love with Raven.

The mechanic tried not to be offended by it and settled her hands in her lap, sitting with her legs tucked under her and hair pulled back, chewing on her bottom lip. It was a nervous habit, one she tried to make herself quit but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. Ever since she lost Finn, she had spent far too long sitting numb in a corner with teeth gnawing and gnawing. It wasn’t until she found someone with constellations in their eyes and stardust in their veins who could make her feel again. Even though at first there were stolen kisses, once that seemed to stop the other girl from crying but eventually, Raven kissed her because she wanted to, not because she had to.

Part of her wanted to reach into Clarke’s chest and tear at her with her fingernails and undercover all the stars hidden beneath the fabric of that blue top she loved so dear until Raven could form constellations of her own. She wanted to place her lips against the blonde’s flesh and discover the Big Dipper and Orion’s belt and oh god, she wanted to find Sagittarius, and for all it was worth, maybe she had already found it, atleast, she told herself she had.

The teenager stared over at her girlfriend, galaxies shining in her eyes and suns in her hair, and she jumped slightly when Murphy sat beside her, muttering something that sounded like a broken apology.

“For what?” she asked, turning to look at him, ponytail swishing about as she moved her head.

John just shook his head, exhaled deeply and stood up again, hand cupping her shoulder with his knees bent. “What I said—About Clarke not getting better...”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” the mechanic soothed. “I don’t care about that, what matters is you’re here with us now, even if you tried to shoot me a few weeks ago.”

“I’m a lousy shot.”

“Damn right you are,” she laughed.

The boy left her side, walking over to the healer with her blonde hair falling over her shoulders, and took the bottle from her hand when she offered and chugged it back, Monty looking over with a look of surprise while Jasper chuckled beside him at his expression.

“We should—“Clarke giggled, hiccupping. “--Play _‘Spin the Bottle’_.”

It was an awful idea and when she spun, bottle landing on Raven, she leapt across the circle and pushed herself at her girlfriend, the mechanic falling backwards with a drunken laugh.

They all just laughed and stayed sat around in a circle, Monty and Jasper disappearing soon after to make all sorts of noises next door and Bellamy had half a mind to go there and tell them to be quiet.

Five kisses after and two bottles of booze and Bellamy was staring across at John Murphy with a frown as the lid of the glass pointed in his direction, a certain mechanic erupting into laughter as the eldest Blake gulped, glaring across the circle with an uncertain frown. “I—“

“Bellamy Blake,” a voice scolded. “You are a coward.”

He tried to come up with an excuse- something that didn’t seem stupid- before Raven Reyes was glaring at him with a look in her eye that screamed murder and the only sound they could hear was the banging next door from Monty and Jasper’s room. And finally, all he could do was stutter-

“Look—I don’t have to—I’m not—I hate this game—It’s stupid.”

“Just kiss him, Bellamy,” Clarke sighed. “It’s not that big a deal. We’re just playing a game. If it makes you feel any better, I kissed Octavia once.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Clarke just shrugged, then, she turned back to him, grinning madly. “She went through a phase because unlike her brother, she’s not afraid to explore her sexuality.”

Bellamy Blake wanted to die. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks and he knew he was blushing like a goddamn teenager but he still couldn’t find it in himself to crawl across the floor and have his first kiss with John Murphy.

“Bellamy,” his sister said, frowning at him from across the other side of the circle. “You’re such a loser.”

Instead of moving forward to kiss the other teenager, Murphy was somehow in-front of him and the eldest Blake couldn’t will himself to turn away or push him off, so he moved forward, lips crushed against the other boy’s, and alarm bells going off in his head.

_So that’s what it felt like to kiss someone. Who knew?_

When they finally broke apart, Raven was smiling at him softly and Octavia was too occupied staring at Lincoln to notice anything had happen.

Clarke whooped but mainly because she was drunk and tired and in a few hours, she was very much going to regret having so much to drink; Raven would deal with the worst of it.

And only minutes later, Jasper was stumbling into the room, hair slightly ruffled and shirt askew, mumbling something about how nothing Monty Green did would ever surprise him while said Monty turned fifty shades of pink behind him.

“You guys mind keeping quiet in there?” Bellamy snapped. “You’ll draw walkers down on us with all the noise you’re making.”

“Not my fault Jasper’s a screamer,” the youngest of them all said, tugging his boyfriend behind him back out the door, and Raven erupted into laughter not long after.

 

卌 **DAYS AFTER**

Clarke settled her finger on the map, pointing out across the street. Raven was pressed against her side, warmth buzzing where their hips joined, the mechanic nodding.

“That’s the one,” she said, eyes briefly glancing over at the few glass bottles of alcohol residing against the wall. It was a miracle no one had tried to drink them yet, especially with Clarke-I-Can-Drink-My-Weight-In-My-Beer-Griffins in the apartment. “It’s not far. We only ducked into it to hide from walkers but it’s stocked to the roof.”

That was good news, for all of them to hear. After Lincoln decided to stay in another apartment somewhere in The Ark, they needed enough supplies to provide for everyone. Sure, they couldn’t live off alcohol and hand-held packages of nuts but it was all they had.

If Monty and Jasper could get the traps set up again- even in the middle of winter- they could probably catch some meat, though Clarke wasn’t sure if she could eat another squirrel. The last one had been enough; from its Disney cartoon eyes and soft pelt to the small babies Monty found afterwards by themselves, without their mother, who was then residing in Jasper’s pouch.

Forever the kind-hearted teenager, Green scooped them up, set them lose inside their home on the third level. Maybe it would be warm enough for them that they wouldn’t freeze to death, maybe just starve, which didn’t really seem that much better.

“Okay, good,” Clarke replied, shaking her head to pull her from her thoughts and rolling the map back up. “Octavia and I can take this one, Bellamy and Murphy can check out the pharmacy a few blocks away, Lincoln and Jasper, there’s a unlooted grocery store up there, you can get that, and—Raven and Monty can hold down the fort, sound good?”

“Absolutely not,” a voice interrupted, both the mechanic and the healer turning to glare at the eldest Blake, hands folded over his chest.

Raven scoffed, a smile nested softly n the corner of her mouth as she glared at him, standing up straighter to meet his gaze. “Get that stick out of your ass and let’s go, Blake,” she said, gaze passing over Murphy. “You’re got a date to get to.”

For a moment, she was almost certain he was going to say something about her being smart, or even blush, but he didn’t, just raised a cautious eyebrow. “You win, Reyes.”

It was a silent victory, earning her a congratulatory thumbs-up from her girlfriend, who pulled her over to kiss her head, arm settling over her shoulder. “Don’t get yourself into trouble,” Clarke pleaded. “I’m too tired for this.”

Raven pressed a chaste kiss against her lips, letting herself stay wrapped up in the moment for a few seconds before parting, saying something about how she needed to get some spare parts off Jasper so she could try and rig up some sort of generator for the colder months. It was only autumn and they just about froze at night. If it wasn’t for Clarke’s body against hers each night, she probably would’ve been a goner days ago.

“Okay, tell him Bellamy’s still pissed about the other day,” the blonde said, hand resting on Raven’s arm as she grasped it to catch her attention.

“I’m sure he already knows,” she offered. “I mean—Bellamy’s been wandering about for the past couple of days like he’s ready to murder someone.”

“Just tell him?”

The mechanic nodded, a small smile crinkling in the corner of her mouth as she did so. “Don’t worry, I got it,” Raven promised. “Now, you have fun, bring back some more alcohol, ‘kay? Keep an eye on O. Last time I was in there with her brother, he just about had a panic attack over the thought of her even being in the store.”

“If only he knew,” the blonde said.

It was probably no secret that the youngest Blake was sleeping with her boyfriend, probably no secret, except to Bellamy, that she’d had her fair share of alcoholic beverages a few nights previous as Clarke’s expense.

“I’m going to stick back with Monty and see if we can get that generator up and running after I see Jasper. We don’t have nearly enough supplies for the winter.”

“We’ll get by. If it means anything, we’ll freeze before we starve.”

Raven forced a choked laugh at her girlfriend’s expense, passing her a handful of bullets, letting them clatter into Clarke’s hand. “Let’s hope you don’t need to use these,” she muttered.

_____

“You and Jasper—“ she started, voice suspecting. “You’ve known each other for a while?”

It was phrased more like a statement than a question but Monty took it upon himself to answer anyway, sorting their food into daily rations. They were meant to be holding down the fort; checking the traps, making sure no walkers breached the Ark, etc. But even doing such a chore, he found himself growing more anxious by the second. They’d been gone for too long.

“Since I was five,” he admitted. “He walked into my life and never walked back out.”

The other teenager had pre-occupied herself with cleaning their pieces, sorting them back together while bullets clanged together on a rag in her lap. “How long have you been—you know.”

Monty raised a cautious eyebrow, shoulders heaving with a half-hearted shrug. “I knew I loved Jasper when I was eleven and then the world fell apart and I almost lost him a few times and eventually, one time he just didn’t come back.”

“What happened?”

“He’d been with Bellamy and Wells. Gotten swarmed and been separated; he found his way here again and that’s when it first happened.”

The girl just stared at him, waiting for a further explanation and she didn’t seem relenting so Monty sighed and continued his story.

“There used to be more of us; a hundred or so occupants. And then people died or the flu got them or walkers, and when Jasper found his way back, some of them pretty much started treating him like a folk hero. _My_ boy—A hero.”

There was a glint of pride in his eye and Raven moved her hand to settle it on his knee, offering a smile.

“He practically ignored me. I hated him for it. So, I did something stupid... I checked the snares by myself, left out the emergency exit on the bottom level and got attacked. I almost died. He jumped in last minute and saved me, said he was so sorry. But... he’d left the door open.”

Raven remembered that. Amidst the chaos and the mayhem, the terror in Jasper’s eyes as he glared at the walkers pouring into the apartment, the screams and the gunshots, and above all, the fear that seemed to course through them all. People were dying; Raven was being saved.

It felt so wrong and selfish but then, she’d just been happy she was safe, that they’d found her. She didn’t even think about the casualties until she saw Finn locking lips with Clarke and a few hours later, he was dead.

She barely got to say goodbye.

“That’s when you found me. When you left and he followed; like he always does.”

“And then a few days ago, Clarke showed up without him _, again_. I wasn’t ready to live without my best friend, he was all I had.”

“Octavia saved him.”

Monty nodded. “He told me he loved me that night, after I kissed him. I—I told him I loved him too.”

__

“You and the pretty boy,” Octavia’s boyfriend questioned. “You guys are together?”

“Define ‘together’,” the younger boy said, voice holding a lilt of humour. “But, yeah, only recently. The same day you saved Clarke, that’s when it happened.”

Lincoln cleared his throat, pulling an expired can of something off the shelf, reading its label with a scrutinised glance before depositing it in his backpack. “Do you love him?”

Jasper stared hard for a minute. “Yeah, I do.”

__

“Don’t,” Clarke warned, voice hushed to a whisper as she watched Octavia from the corner of her eye. The walker drifted out of sight, moans falling further away. “It’s not worth it.”

Killing one of them was wasteful; it brought unwanted attention.

The youngest Blake didn’t argue, just narrowed her eyes at the blonde and huffed, saying something low beneath her breath. She was rebellious, daring, and they couldn’t afford to have risk-takers anymore. Risks got people killed.

“On the count of three, okay?” the healer asked, a cautionary glance landing on Bellamy’s sister. They had to make it to the other side of the street without being seen, bags full of clattering bottles of alcohol beverages and foil packaged foods. It was going to the hard but the Ark was just within sight.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Octavia whispered, powering into a light sprint when Clarke finished counting down.

The blonde trailed behind her slowly, an experimental glimpse revealing a herd. She was so far unnoticed but she knew it wouldn’t be long.

She waved Octavia ahead, moving her lips to tell her to run when her bag fell, bottles of beer and wine splattering against the concrete road, heart jumping up into her throat. She barely had time to scramble for her backpack before the walkers were stumbling over to her, moans and groans, and Lincoln was appearing from a store and dragging his girlfriend into it, leaving Clarke stranded on the street.

The teenager let a lowly curse escape her lips, shaking hands pulling at her bag to lift it back onto her shoulders.

“Clarke!” a voice yelled out.

She couldn’t find the source of the noise, barely heard it over the pumping of her own heart and the static that filled her ears. Clarke looked around frantically, trying not to allow herself to grow too anxious. There were walkers pouring in through all directions drawn in by a noise she only just recognised as her own screaming.

A hand pulled at her, Jasper suddenly by her side, tugging at her sleeve to lead her away. She wasn’t too sure where she was going, legs growing weak and stomach curdling.

She’d been so close to dying _... Again_.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Jasper gasped, pulling her down to rest against a cold wall. He draped an arm around her shoulders, threw his head back in exhaustion. She’d known it’d been close; hadn’t even settled in until a few seconds ago that she had almost died.

She had almost suffered the same fate as Wells. And Miller. And Harper. And Maya. And Marcus. And her own mother.

_So close._

“I dropped my bag,” she said, staring at the dripping backpack that had fallen a few feet away. She’d probably smashed all the bottles, and some of the cans, in the fall. It could’ve been worse.

“No shit,” the younger boy replied, a weak laugh drifting past his lips.

“Why aren’t you with Lincoln?” she asked, turning at him in accusation. “You were meant to stay together. That was the plan. The plan works, Jasper.”

“I was trying to find Bellamy and Murphy,” he admitted. He looked at her inconfusion, like she was talking in some kind of gibberish.Then, frowning, he added softly, “Didn’t you hear the screaming?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet sure to let me know if you like this! Thanks for reading, everyone.


	3. The Consequences Of Being Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Sometimes, Clarke just needed to remind herself that this pain she felt- the ache in her chest and the losses that seemed to pile up- were just a consequence of being human, and oddly enough, the blonde was perfectly fine with that.'
> 
> or jasper and clarke meet a beautiful stranger and some of the delinquents get into trouble of their own.

“What screaming?” Clarke asked, eyes open wide as she looked at Jasper. She had been so caught up in trying to get to safety and ensure Octavia was alright that she had blanked out most of the world. “Jas—“

“The screaming, Clarke. The fucking screaming,” he whispered. “It was a girl.”

_Octavia._

“No,” she said. “Lincoln grabbed Octavia. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. We can trust him. It might’ve been me, right? Everything happened so fast, I might have started yelling.”

“You were scared but you weren’t screaming, Clarke.”

She pulled herself off the wall, head pressed against the glass of the front window of the store. On the other side was silence, not the chaos that had been there just a few moments ago. No walkers; no nothing.

Jasper joined her eventually though the time felt like minutes were going by instead of mere seconds.

Clarke turned towards the other teenager, arms wrapping around him and her head finding solace against his chest. He stood stiff, unsure, before his thin arms embraced her, letting himself fall into the hug.

“Octavia’s okay,” she soothed, starting to hum a quiet song beneath her breath. It helped. That’s what her mother used to do when she worked at the hospital and that’s what Clarke did when she took tests; it was what Raven did all those times after Finn died when she trying to calmed down Clarke. It worked. But not this time. “We’re all okay, right?”

He didn’t reply.

* * *

 

The screaming in question later turned out to be that of a stranger; a girl with dark kohl smudged around her eyes and hair braided tightly, and messily, down her back, a sword pressed into her hand. She was far too practiced and exact for an amateur as she sliced through a walker, face wrinkling up in disgust as the gooey blood of the figure splattered across her face. Cheeks dotted with red and teeth clenching together in anger, the herd quickly dispersed, limbs and body parts lying on the concrete as she ended the life of another being with one swish of her weapon.

The girl, likely not much older than the rest of the delinquents, and equally as pretty, stepped over the bodies, her boots crunching on the stones of the road, a gentle smirk curling in the corner of her mouth.

With that, she tilted her head back up to the sky, another scream coaxed from her throat.

It was a battle cry; atleast, that’s what Clarke whispered to Jasper when he asked. The two were torn between giving away their position to help her or observing her and following her back to her camp. She had to have one and even if she didn’t, it was likely she was holed up somewhere at least and she was going to take them straight to it.

Jasper pressed forward, Clarke moving, and reaching, forward quickly to grasp the material of his shirt with her fingers to hold him in place. It was a loose grip, just enough to have a dominant hold on the younger boy and he looked up at her with confusion.

“What?”

They couldn’t afford to give up their position just yet. The two would have to stop and observe her first, for all it was worth, and find out if the stranger was a threat or there was the possibility of an alliance to be made. Hopefully, with the way the girl could handle herself, it was the latter.

The blonde released her tight grip on Jasper, his head turning as his eyes darting to meet her gaze, dark hues boring into hers. “Clarke,” he whispered, fringe dashed across his forehead and words softly spoken, “what do we do?”

She paused to give herself a moment to think, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration. “We follow her, try and talk some sense, and if she doesn’t buy it, then we leave,” she replied simply, light waves of hair bouncing over her shoulder. “There’s no harm in trying, right?”

“Will we make it back before dark?” came the almost silent reply. “I have plans with Monty.”

Clarke had to try and suppress a groan before she exhaled noisily, shoulders heaving with a shrug. She couldn’t afford to make any promises; not when the dead strolled the streets. It was always risky leaving the Ark and for weeks, they had been putting it off for as long as possible. There was no point in leaving when the possibility that someone could die was high. “If those plans involve bed springs or your boyfriend’s moonshine,” the blonde sighed, “then I don’t even want to know but—we should be. I can’t make any promises, alright, Jasper?”

“Okay just... Hey, Clarke?” he whispered, voice strained in the dark that was settling around them, and cracking as he spoke. “If I don’t make it, you’ll tell Monty won’t you? You know what I mean. That I—“

“Hey,” Clarke said, hand reaching forward to cup his shoulder. She lowered her gaze to meet his, nails digging into the flesh of his back, and shivering. This was always the worst part. Telling someone that the person they loved wasn’t ever coming back. Usually, they made Bellamy do it, because most of the time, he volunteered to. He was good like that. “We’re going to be okay.”

“But if we don’t, you’ll tell Monty, won’t you?” the younger teenager muttered, widened eyes peering through the dim darkness. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, making its descent down while the first hint of a star twinkled somewhere in the distance. “That, I like, love him.”

Hearing the words almost brought tears to her eyes but she blinked them way, nodding. “And you’ll tell Raven?”

“Of course.”

“Well then, it’s agreed,” she said, a false smile making quick work at each corner of her mouth. “So let’s get going, hey? Our girl is getting away.”

Clarke took lead, Jasper hot on her heels. They kept a fair distance, stopping around corners and taking short-cuts through buildings so they could keep an eye on her and avoid the dead. The stranger was fast, and attractive if Clarke was being completely honest- hey, she’s taken, not blind- and the two barely managed to hold sight of her for the entire journey.

The woman stopped as they reached the edge of the woods, pausing to peer through the ground floor level of the Ark, hands wiping away at the dust settling on the windows. She had her forehead pressed against the dark, cold breath leaving puffs on the glass. There was a solemn look on her face, a word leaving her mouth that neither of the delinquents could decipher.

As far as the only-living Griffin knew, there wasn’t anything on the bottom floor. When the second level caved in and killed atleast fifty of the past survivors in the first few months, and leaving many fatally injured and un-saveable, they blocked most of it off. Apart from the door and the main staircase, nothing down there was of any use. Any windows they could get to had thick layers of paint over them or they were covered in crudely cut pieces of cloth, anything to conceal themselves or prevent danger.

Most of the time, it seemed to work.

There had been the incident where they had lost Monroe and Miller but they managed to fight off the danger for as long as they could. Losing people was always hard, probably even worse than knowing that the moment you stepped out a door, you could be taking your last breath.

Sometimes, Clarke just needed to remind herself that this pain she felt- the ache in her chest and the losses that seemed to pile up- were just a consequence of being human, and oddly enough, the blonde was perfectly fine with that.

She shouldn’t have been but she was. Most of the people living in the Ark had to put their thanks to Raven and Monty. Without them, they likely wouldn’t be alive. They kept them fed and safe, more than anyone could ever ask for, and sure, Monty wasn’t the best in the field but he was quick and nimble. They needed him.

Jasper shifted besides Clarke, moving closer, and she could feel his body heat against her back. “What is she doing?” he hissed.

She ignored Jasper’s question for a few minutes as she examined the stranger. Whatever the other woman was doing, it was beyond the blonde. Why anyone would want to peer through a darkened window, possibly risking their life, couldn’t be explained.

“I don’t know, Jas. But whatever it is, I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t either--” she replied, cutting herself off as the stranger moved forward, away from the delinquents home. “Come on,” Clarke called, moving her hand back to indicate to Jasper to follow her. “She’s moving.”

* * *

 

_Oh, god._

As far as second kisses went, the way Murphy kissed Bellamy just then definitely won supreme. The younger boy was painfully eager though he kept himself guarded and most of the time, only spoke when spoken to, eyes each time drifting along Bellamy’s collarbone or the curves of his lips or his dimples when he chuckled quietly along to one of his own jokes.

It was strange to be so close to him and somewhere in the back of his mind, the eldest Blake was thanking God for Raven Reyes for pushing him towards the other boy. He would never tell her that no matter how hard he tried, he would always like Clarke, just a little. But now, he had John, and John had him.

* * *

 

“You see anything?” Raven asked, voice muffled as she pressed against a window of the apartment block, Monty returning through the door, his jacket wet.

“Nothing,” he sighed.

They had a good advantage point being on one of the top levels of the Ark but they still couldn’t see past a certain point.

Still, that only seemed to worry them even more. Turning, Raven met the other’s gaze across the room, eyes softening and in a fleeting moment, she moved forward, long legs striding to the door to pull the younger boy into her embrace, fingers digging into the flesh of his back, forehead pressed against his collarbone.

“They’ll be back,” she whispered, though her voice was choked and restrained. “Jasper wouldn’t leave you, Monty. I promise.”

“Don’t,” he said.

Raven tightened her grip on him, refusing to let even when their bodies shook with sobs and even when they heard another scream. They were both shivering in the cold, Monty’s wet jacket soaking through her own, but neither of them cared enough to move away from the hug.

“They’ll be back,” she repeated. It broke her heart to hear the way Jasper’s boyfriend’s breath hitched as she spoke, his hold on her tightening. The words were more for her own desperate need for soothing words, for something to bring solace and peace to herself.

“Raven, please,” he begged. “Don’t.”

* * *

 

“You hear that?” Bellamy asked, the sound of screaming almost deafening through the glass of the store. He turned to look at the younger boy, eyes wide in panic. It could be anyone who made the noise and there was no way of telling unless they went and looked.

“Octavia or maybe Clarke?” Murphy asked, voice lowered and eyebrows lifted in concern. He moved his gun up, tucking the butt of it under his arm as he pressed forward, following his boyfriend out the door of the shop, eyes glaring out around the streets. There were bodies piled up and blood splattered across the road, light rain pelting the concrete.

Bellamy turned to look at him. “Stay close,” he demanded, a hand moving out to touch gently at Murphy’s bicep, brushing against his cheek softly. “Be careful.”

“Right behind you,” the other gulped, stomach churning nervously. It could’ve been butterflies; it could’ve been because he loved the new closeness between he and Octavia’s brother. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it almost was—It sure as hell could’ve been.

* * *

 

From somewhere around them, another battle cry pierced the air sharply. Jasper jumped almost three feet in the air behind Clarke, hands grasping at the back of her shirt to soothe his nerves.

“Jasper!” she hissed, trying to voice her irritancy as she whirled on him, teeth clenched together. His grip on it loosened but did not let her go, nor did she suspect he had the intention to.

The stranger kept walking, taking out any walkers and leaving the bodies of the dead scattering the street. It relieved Clarke and Jasper of having to stop and make the effort and for that, they were partly glad that the girl in-front of them was taking the burden off them.

“She’s going into the woods, we have to follow,” the blonde said, ducking for cover behind a thick tree, her friend’s grip on her disappearing as he moved further ahead, glancing behind him nervously.

For a second, he looked like he wanted to disagree and drag her back to the Ark but he didn’t just bit down on his top lip and hesitated before following after her.

“Clarke,” he cursed, his footsteps soon falling into step behind the blonde.

* * *

 

“Nobody out here,” Murphy said, a heavy sigh passing by his lips. “Wow—Shit.”

His gaze was focused on the bodies lining the street, the rain washing at the blood left behind in wake of the mess, a few heads of the walkers were still snapping, their eyes unblinking though still alive, in whatever way dead heads could be.

“Octavia,” Bellamy pressed. “She could’ve done this. Or Lincoln and Jasper.”

“Are they samurai’s now?” the other boy retorted, voice lilt with disbelief. “Besides, the only people capable of doing this would be one of your little sister’s friends. Those forest people with the swords.”

“The Grounders.”

The people with the dark kohl smudged around their faces terrorised the woods and the delinquents hadn’t seen them in almost three months—since Lincoln abandoned them. They seemed to have been angered when he left them for Octavia and from that, they had started a war, one that only ended in blood.

Out of the hundred people living in the Ark, all of them had died but Raven, Clarke, Monty, Jasper, Octavia, Bellamy, Harper and Murphy.

They had been dark times and Bellamy wasn’t entirely sure if they could go through it again. Everyone living in the Ark now, he loved them all and if he lost them, especially Octavia and Murphy and Clarke, he wasn’t sure if he could restrain himself from killing all of the Grounders; all of them. Every single one would die if they took more from him.

Believe that.

* * *

 

The once light rain was soon followed by thunder and lighting, and it did nothing to soothe Jasper’s nerves. He was twitching anxiously as he followed after Clarke, thumb nail pushed in his mouth and teeth making quick work of it.

It was a habit he’d picked up not too long ago and he still had yet to shake it; he probably wouldn’t ever.

The stranger stopped, turning to catch the two in her sights like flies caught in a trip or a deer in the headlights. It was hard to look away once she’d seen them and Clarke stiffened, hand moving back to take Jasper’s. The blonde took a step back, trying to comfort the other delinquent clinging to her.

“We don’t mean any harm,” she offered, raising the hand that wasn’t occupied. “I’m Clarke and this is Jasper.”

The stranger in-front of them lowered her sword, recognition gleaming in her eyes. “Clarke Griffin and Jasper Jordan of the Ark,” the brunette greeted, head tilting slightly in greeting. “I know who you are. No need for introductions.”

Her mannerisms, her kindness, it was almost... _Polite_?

Clarke nodded in reply, head to the side. Her eyebrows were threaded in confusion, though she tried not to let it show. How the other teenager knew their names was beyond her though she slowly pieced it together. Stopping outside the Ark window, leading them into territory they didn’t know; she knew they were there the entire them. “Yes.”

“Lexa.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jasper grumbled from behind. Clarke had almost forgotten he was there and she shook herself out of her trance, moving aside to allow Lexa to see him.

“We just want to talk, Lexa, if that’s alright,” she voiced. It was worth a try, no matter what the cost, and even if she was half sure that the brunette was going to start amputating limbs if she didn’t get her way, Clarke had to try, she had to.

A shrug.

“Jasper and I—There are a small group of us living in that apartment, the one you stopped at. We have a friend there, Lincoln, and we can take you to him—“

Monty’s boyfriend opened his mouth to disagree but the blonde raised her hand to silence him, looking to the side.

“—We just ask that we can build an alliance.”

“You took my people, you killed some of us, why would I forgive your sins when you have not apologised for them, Clarke Griffin?”

“I know how this sounds but we do not want a war, Lexa.”

A cruel smile lifted at each corner of her mouth, eyes squinting. Her hair was pulled back and slicked with rain, her sword dripping blood into the dirt pooled around her feet. Standing there, she looked cruel, like an enemy they did not want to make. “I do not understand you.”

Clarke’s heart thundered against her chest, breath hitched in her throat. She was unbelievably nervous, unbelievably terrified. If she said the wrong thing, there was no returning back to her friends; no kissing Raven, no seeing Bellamy, or hugging Octavia, or teasing Murphy, or even talking to Monty. Nothing.

She could ruin this for all of them; _Clarke-Motherfucking-Going-To-Mess-This-Up-Griffins_.

“What?”

 _Good going_ , the only-living Griffin scolded herself. She was meant to be thinking smart, using the right words, not talking in the ‘who, what, when, where’s’. If Lexa didn’t think she was stupid before, she sure as hell did now.

“You save everyone,” the stranger hissed, lips curled back in rage. “But who saves _you,_ Clarke Griffin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos or a comment, it really helps fuel my writing process and it's always nice to know that you actually enjoy my story!


	4. Begin Again (& Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'She had coped. Little could be said for that moment right then, water pooling around her ankles and a sweaty hand pressed inside hers. The rain soaked through the headband on her head, filled her shoes with water, and she couldn’t find it in herself to move away, to begin mourning them when she had just finished mourning herself, and the world seemed to be asking far too much of her right then.'
> 
> (INTRODUCTING: Harper)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so major character death in the first part so you've be warned but enjoy this, I guess?

Brown hues flickered up to meet Clarke’s gaze, like Jasper was searching for some sort of confirmation, but the most she could bring herself to offer was a nod. At first, the only thing she could hear was the loud pumping of her own heart, like the rest of the world had drowned itself out but eventually, the younger sister of the boy on the floor, with a bite in his shoulder, let out a scream.

Murphy moved forward, hair covered his face, his eyes, almost like he can’t bear the thought of them seeing him; from the tears in his eyes to the paleness that drained the colours from his cheeks.

“Octavia,” he hissed, hand reaching forward to grab her, the girl’s legs stretching out on the floor beneath her, standing to fall into the boy’s body, face against his collarbone. It was obvious that Murphy isn’t used to affection because his whole body went rigid, hand pausing halfway to her head to pat down her hair.

Lincoln lingered on the side, frozen still, but his eyes were stuck on his girlfriend huddled into Murphy’s squirming grasp. His eyebrows narrowed at the sight, lips settled into a thin, straight line.

It’s been so long since they lost someone that they all feel the lost deep inside, like their very hearts were bleeding inside their chests, and Clarke pulled her gun from her pocket, waited for the youngest Blake to turn her head away from her dead brother, but it wasn’t long before a hand grabbed the weapon from her, hand settling over hers.

“Let me,” a voice said, soft and meek, almost like it hadn’t been used it far too long. “You don’t have to do all the heavy lifting, Griffin, I got this.”

An argument settled like poison on the tip of the blonde’s tongue, eyes glaring up at Harper in a mix of confusion and thankfulness. So, she handed the weapon over, letting the skin of her palm rest over the younger girl’s. “Thank you,” Clarke whispered though the apology felt like bark in her throat. “You don’t—“

“Bellamy was my friend,” Harper replied, gun now clenched in her grip, free hand moving out to push Clarke back. “Go, take them back to the Ark, I’ll handle this; I can clean up my own messes, okay? Just—Make sure Octavia doesn’t have to see this.”

An hour ago, Jasper and Clarke were with Lexa, with her dark kohl smudged around her eyes. Then, the screaming had started up again, this time not from the grounder but in the distance, and when they managed to run back, fight their way through a horde of walkers, Octavia was clutching her brother’s body and Murphy was hacking at a biter’s head with his axe, swinging it about wildly; in anger, maybe.

Skip ahead an hour and Harper was inching back the trigger on Clarke’s gun and sending a single bullet right into Bellamy Blake’s head while his sister screamed blood murder over her shoulder, Lincoln leading her away without a hint of sadness.

 Murphy stood at the executioner’s side, watching over the body of his bleeding friend with traces of malice and sorrow, and she turned to him, hair swinging over her shoulder, saliva stuck in her throat. “Go,” her voice rung out. “I’ll deal with it.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” he muttered, reaching past her to grab the dead body under the pits, heaving it up without the slightest hint of guilt, just letting his axe drop to the ground, ignoring the few walkers still lingering about the street.

“Hey—“ Harper protested, moving forward to grab one part of his leg in each foot, offering the slightest hint of a frown through the tears that spilt over her cheeks. “You’re not the only one who lost something today, Murphy. O lost her brother, Clarke lost her best friend; I lost a friend, too. Stop pretending like maybe you’re the only person who misses him.”

He looked up at her, eyes glassed over with tears, grip on Bellamy slackening.

“Oh,” Harper whispered, hands tightening around the deceased’s body, a lump forming in her throat. She had been gone for the past week, away on some kind of soul-searching trip after losing Miller.

 It wasn’t abandonment, she simply needed a break, a rest, after losing someone so close to her. And then there she was, returning to find Clarke with a gun pressed against another of her friend’s forehead, so she’d snapped. Part of her expected Murphy to be able to take it; but, he hadn’t. “—I’m sorry, I just... I’m sick of losing people, you know?”

“I know,” he agreed.

It was far from a tone of forgiveness but the boy still stared at her, eyes still glassed over with an expression of sadness. She had been the same when Nathan and Monroe died in the collapse of the second level, squishing them beneath the rubble. It was hard to lose them but—

Somehow, she had coped. Somehow, turning her back on the rest of her friends and completely abandoning Monty, who had also lost someone close to him, had helped her fix her own heart; the one that was once broken beyond repair. It was still cracked but she had found the glue to put it back together.

She stared down at Bellamy’s body, ankles pressing against the inside of her palm, and sighed, ignoring the gentle pitter-patter of rain that started to fall on the concrete road beneath her; settling in her hair and soaking through her clothes.

 It was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

Monty hugged Jasper tight, ignored the gunshot that ricocheted through the Ark, through every open window. They were finally together again, they were _safe_.

He opened his mouth to tell him he loved him and shut it again. That could wait, for now, he was going to hold him and pretend that everything was okay like they almost hadn’t lost each other. **_Again._**

* * *

 

Clarke clutched Raven against herself, hands radiating warmth into her back, trying to ignore the way her girlfriend’s tears soaked through her shirt to her skin, from her neck to her collarbone. “I couldn’t do anything—“

“I miss him already,” a voice said, a quick peek through blanketed eyelids revealing Monty, Jasper’s arm around his neck, both falling into each other, standing hip-to-hip. “I can’t believe he’s gone—We need to do something for him.”

“Hey,” Jasper tried to soothed, moving his hand to force his friend’s head closer towards him, lips pressing against his forehead. “Maybe we should go and check on Octavia before we think about burying him.”

“I don’t want to think about burying him,” Clarke choked, clutching Raven tighter against herself. “We’ll leave that to Murphy for now.”

“And how do you think that’s going to go?—Letting the boy clean up the mess,” someone said. Lincoln stepped forward, regarding Clarke with interest, watching as she pushed Raven gently away from herself, ready for a fight or an argument or for everyone to shove the blame down her throat like she had done to herself so many times before. “He can barely stand.”

“Harper can take care of it,” she pointed it, hand moving to find the mechanic’s.

“Harper’s here?” Monty asked, eyes glancing up at his boyfriend. Jasper just offered a nod in return, squeezed his hand. “I thought she was gone, she said she wasn’t going to come back. Not after Nate and Monroe died. Where is she?”

Clarke swallowed. “Dragging Bellamy’s body out of the street.”

Monty moved for the door, hand untangled from Jasper’s, but the blonde pressed forward, grasped a hand into the back of his shirt, forcing him to stop. “You don’t want to see him, Monty. He was bit, he’s a mess.”

“So Harper and Murphy have to deal with his body, Clarke?” the fifteen year-old spat back, except, he said it with the slightest hint of disbelief; somehow it still seemed kind. “They were the closest to him, almost, other than Octavia. Murphy was his boyfriend. Would you make—“

“Mont—“ Jasper warned, though his words were drowned underneath the rain that had started outside.

“Would you make Jasper drag my dead body out of the street?” he hissed, pulling his hand away when she went to reach for him, try and calm him down. “If I was dead, would you make _my_ boyfriend do the same thing?”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, anxiety bundled in her throat, sudden realisation like a cruel, cold slap in the face, almost knocking her back. Her lips crinkled down into an uneasy frown, eyes widened. “No, I wouldn’t. I-I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Harper retorted, grip on Bellamy loosening ever so slightly that she stumbled upon her words, kicking up the slightest bit of dirt as she walked. “I didn’t like Bellamy—if anyone did, it was you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Murphy replied softly, pausing for a second. “Put him down now, we’re close enough.”

Harper obliged, settling the body down, wincing slightly as it shifted, Murphy moving in unison with her as they put it down on the ground. The wound in Bellamy’s was already rotten, eyes sunken, skin pale. Even in death, he looked peaceful; almost... handsome.

Holding a hand to her mouth, the girl swallowed down the bile climbing up her throat, another hand reaching out to the grab the shovel from Murphy’s hand, eyes swollen with tears. He gave her the tool without complaint, biting down on his bottom lip as he sucked it in.

“You should go back,” she instructed. “I’ll take it from here.”

He doesn’t argue or even go to move (to run away from the mess they’d made, but, it wasn’t them, it was the world that screwed this up, that left teenagers to try and fix it with bruised hands) and she shifted slightly, uncomfortable under his gaze.  John Murphy was a murderer, she knew that, but Harper wasn’t scared of him. She wasn’t really scared of anything anymore. 

“Together?”

The boy glanced up at the seventeen year-old, her hands paused on the handle of the shovel, just beginning to dig it until the ground before she paused. “Okay,” she whispered. “We do it together—on the count of three, yeah?”

So, that’s how Harper and John ended up standing in the pouring rain with a shovel shared between them and Bellamy’s rotting body on the soft dirt beneath him, wet hair in their eyes and calloused hands, and she watched him as they lowered the eldest Blake’s body into the ground, ignored the start of the tears that pricked in her eyes, and reached beside her for a hand when the dead body was in the ground; in a hole.

And, Murphy grabbed hers back.

Yeah, it was baby steps, and she’d only been back for a few hours, but it was something. It meant she was forgiven; it meant that he didn’t hate her for abandoning them. Blinking her eyes, she was just grateful that this meant she wasn’t going to be forced to face Octavia—she remembered the other girl being so angry at her for leaving— for a little longer.

* * *

 

She had coped. Little could be said for that moment right then, water pooling around her ankles and a sweaty hand pressed inside hers. But still, the rain soaked through the headband on her head, filled her shoes with water, and she couldn’t find it in herself to move away, to begin mourning Bellamy because she had just finished mourning herself, and the world seemed to be asking far too much of her right then.

* * *

 

It was small, the holes left in their hearts were not.

Clarke looped an arm around Raven’s waist, holding her girlfriend’s shivering body against her own in the rain, trying to ignore the way Octavia was glaring at them like poison; Lincoln thought that maybe she was jealous.

She hadn’t lost a boyfriend or a lover, she had lost her family. The bond she had with her brother had been severed clean in half and the blood they had shared was spilt all over the concrete road of the street in-front of the Ark.

 God, she missed him.

Jasper held a trembling Monty, pressing small kisses to his forehead as they curled into each other, the youngest boy’s head tucked under Jasper’s chin, refusing to look at the scene before them—Harper and Murphy, covered in dirt and soaking through with rain, throwing the last few bits of dirt over Bellamy’s body while his skin began to rot.

The two shivered, teeth clanking, and Harper moved to wipe her arm across her face, to clear the water that blurred her vision, a mixture of tears and rain.

Monty moved away from his boyfriend, pulled away from the warm embrace just enough that he could glance at Harper, narrow his eyes to tell her that maybe he didn’t forgive her, before she spoke, words mumbled but loud enough.

“Should we say something?”

Everyone looked at her, at the hair stuck to her skin, at the droplets like diamonds crystallised on her face. Somehow, they had lost a friend and gained another but it didn’t feel right.

“Doesn’t feel real,” Murphy said back, face showing off his infamous scowl, arms straight at his side as he stared down at the hump of dirt, at the shovel on top. Six feet under, his once-boyfriend (and god, he wished he’d never fallen for the eldest Blake because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t feel that ache in his heart like it was splitting open more and more by the minute) was dead, with sunken eyes and green-tinged skin. “It—“

“I miss him, man,” Jasper whispered, not meaning to cut-off the other boy. “I thought, out of all of us, I would be the first to go—“ Monty made a harsh noise in the back of his throat. “But not Bellamy.”

Raven cracked a smile, or tried to, and nudged the blonde beside her ever so slightly, just catching her ribs though the movement was soft.  “Yeah, trust me, we thought so too.”

They all laughed.

“May we meet again,” a voice said and it was quiet and nice, and made goose pimples appear all over Clarke’s flesh, and they all repeated it, a small chorus of the sentence bounding from each person.

* * *

 

He wasn’t dead.

Last thing he remembered was death’s grip on his shoulder, clutching him tighter than he remembered, and then teeth biting into his skin, tearing at his flesh with sharp nails, drool entering the fresh wound.

There was pain and he managed to let out a piercing cry before he succumbed to its grip; before he felt the world slip away and white noise filled his ears.

And then, a mouth chocked full of dirt and undergrowth, clawing at the ground surrounding him, trying to find a way out of the earth. He needed to get out; he needed to show his family that he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t.

He _couldn’t_ be.

* * *

 

Harper saw the movement, the stirring of dirt, but she closed her eyes, turned away from the movement in the grave. She was imagining it; Bellamy Blake was dead and he wasn’t coming back. But still, she felt her eyes drift over to it, ever so slightly, before she tore them away.

“It’s not real,” she whispered, clutching her hand into a fist, nails digging into the skin of her palm. “It’s not real.”

And for five minutes straight, until she managed to climb up the stairs of the Ark and join the rest of her friends—of the people who still stared at her with eyes narrowed, still no doubt feeling the bitter sting of her rejection— she said it under her breath, screamed it into every corner of their home, let it fill the empty hall of the apartment block like it was a mantra.

“It’s not real."

* * *

 

Octavia sobbed into her hands, tried to catch the tears from her eyes like she could keep them hidden, but Lincoln’s arm moved to curl around her shoulders, rest against the back of her neck, lips pressing to the side of her head.

He was warm but her heart felt so very cold, and she could feel her own heartbeat thudding inside her chest when he whispered against her ear, let his hot breath prickle against her skin.

“Octavia... Come back to me.”

* * *

 

Clarke watched Raven tie back her stringy hair, shivering even in the warmth of her own embrace, fingers clutching at her elbows. Somewhere, in another universe, Bellamy was alive. Somewhere, in another universe, she had fallen in-love with him before she fell in-love with Raven.

“Are you okay?” the blonde asked, words forced from between her lips, the ones that felt too heavy to open. And she subtly curled back up inside herself, felt her heart drop into her lap, ignored the tears that streamed down her face, and offered the beginning of a smile.

It was weak but kind, and the girl before her, with softened brown eyes, dropped to her knees, rested her head in Clarke’s lap and, with a few small words forced from her throat with a few tears, broke down.

“No,” she managed to feebly whisper. “I’m not.”

* * *

 

The growls of the dead outside didn’t stop nor did Octavia’s crying. Murphy was sitting in the corner with his knife pressed against a piece of wood, and Harper was reconciling with Monty, hands clutched together as they sat side-by-side, her lips spilling apologies like a machine; she didn’t stop, not even for a minute.

The blonde rested her head on Monty’s shoulder, tried to ignore how his body shook with every moment that passed.

“I’m sorry.”

He rolled his eyes but there was no bite there, he was being nicer than he should have to be, and her heart ached at the fondness behind the smile that fell upon his face. “Harp, I’m just glad you’re back, okay? As long as I don’t lose you, we’re cool. Just—don’t leave again.”

The girl swallowed thickly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She sealed her eyes shut, tried to ignore the swirling in her belly. Once upon a time, she had liked Monty. Like, really _liked_ him, and how she was back, he had moved on. Jasper Jordan looked at him like he was a chemical formula and Monty looked at Jasper like he held the answers to the universe; it was love.

And she couldn’t get in the way of that. Not little Harper. Not the same Harper who had just returned to a family that was now more destroyed than it had been when she’d left.

They’d lost Wells, for one. She hadn’t been close to him, at all, but he was a good kid, and she trusted him, with her life, and maybe because she trusted Clarke and Clarke trusted him. But that wasn’t the only reason.

Harper liked almost anyone—pretty much—but she had really liked him. Not romantically, he wasn’t her type, but in a friend way.

So she stared over at Murphy, smiled slightly when he met her eyes, a scowl pressing down each corner of his mouth. They weren’t friends, they never really had been, but they had both liked Bellamy. They shared... _Common interests_. Besides, Jasper had let it spill twenty minutes or so ago that he and Bellamy had kissed, and she had stared at him in disbelief and found herself feeling even more sorry for the boy in the corner. (She hadn’t even thought that possible until it happened.)

Yeah, they had all lost friends, but Octavia had lost a brother, and Murphy had lost someone— _thing._ Whatever the hell he saw in Bellamy; whatever Bellamy was to him.

Her mouth formed two syllables, mouthing a greeting towards him, and he gives a small half-hearted nod in reply.

“If I die,” a voice broke out, shattering the silence as Monty looked up, puzzlement clear upon his face. “I want you all to party, yeah? We’ll get streamers—well, I’ll be dead so you guys can—and you can all get drunk and talk about my swag or how cool I was and that I was definitely the best person in the entire world like I was kind of better than all of you combined, especially Raven, and you all loved me _so_ much—“

“Jasper?” Raven deadpanned, appearing in the doorway, eyes slitted as she watched the boy.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sorry? (Okay but kudos and comments keep me going, lay them on me.)


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